She Just Knows
by TheVeiledFairy
Summary: Brittany can feel the change. She knows that Santana has finally done it. One-Shot that just came out of nowhere.


**Author's Note: This just came to me earlier today. I don't know...I just have a lot of feelings.**

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><p>Brittany can feel it in every step she takes down the hallway. Every step she takes closer to the choir room, she hears the whispers, sees the stares, and she just knows.<p>

When she approaches the door, her stomach flips in anticipation. She has to take a moment to breathe; to calm herself before she faces her. She'd always thought this would be easy for her, but in this moment, knowing that the time has truly come, she's terrified.

She's terrified to leave the certainty and ease that she's come to appreciate, in favor of the tremulous terrain she's been yearning for as long as she can remember.

No one's noticed her at the door yet. It's uncharacteristically shut and she wonders if _she_ had anything to do with that.

Brittany knows that Glee is their safe place, and she assumes that the shut door is _her _effort at closing them off from the rest of the world. It's a vain attempt to keep out the whispers that float in on the breeze of every passing student to taunt her; to mock her even in the falsely numbing circle of acceptance that shrouds her.

Her heart is racing as she remains rooted outside the door, watching. Her eyes are roaming over the familiar faces filling the rows and her gaze stops to linger on the boyfriend she never knew she wanted. Sure they'd broken up, but since Prom, they'd been slowly repairing their friendship.

Friendship; that's what Brittany calls it, but she knows she's deluding herself every time she sees the hopeful smile he shoots her in the halls or feels the lingering touch of their hands when they say goodbye. He wants her back, and part of her was almost willing to take him.

And then she sees _her._

She's huddled in the back row, several seats separating her from the group on all sides. Brittany watches as her eyes dart around anxiously immediately shifting into a glare in the direction of anyone who dared turn around to look at her.

Her breath condenses on the glass, tiny droplets running down and streaking the misshapen "O", as she just stands, and watches. Observes. Loves.

Brittany had never felt such a sense of overwhelming and unconditional adoration; such a sense of _pride_ for anyone, not even _her, _as she did then with her nose pressed against the grimy window panel.

She can't help the cheeky smile that graces her features. She can't help the single tear that runs paradoxically down her cheek, across that same smile. Just then, he sees her, and the glow, the warm fuzzy feeling is gone.

Brittany quickly wipes her eye, smearing the evidence of her emotions, and opens the door. The room goes silent as she enters and _she_ refuses to look at her.

She's not sure how long she stood there, next to the piano….waiting, but Brittany assumes it couldn't have been more than a few seconds because now she's looking at _him_ and he's waving a little too enthusiastically and patting the empty seat next to him.

The whole scene has an undertone of uncertain desperation, but just like that, she trots over with a half hearted smile and plops herself down in the seat because it's familiar. Because it's _easy_.

She's made her decision, but she indulges the part of her that clung to the stability one last time.

Rehearsal dragged on forever and Brittany sits uncomfortably still throughout it.

She feels caged. She can feel everyone's eyes on her, watching her every movement; interpreting each nuance that may betray her thoughts, her _preferences._

Every time she looks in _his _direction, every time she angles herself to subtly glance over her shoulder at _her _under the pretence of talking to Mike, she feels the judgment and so she remains as motionless as possible for the rest of rehearsal.

It's not until the bell has rung and the room has cleared that she makes her move. Brittany knows that _she_ had been watching as _he_ asked her if she was ready to go.

She had felt the piercing glare shooting past her, to _him_, and she had felt the pleading insecurity seeping out of the gaze to envelop her. She'd known, without looking, that _she_ never left.

Now, as she climbs the risers and gingerly takes the seat next to _her_, the seat that used to be hers, the anguish and exhaustion that radiates from the stoic girl next to her is palpable.

_She_ still won't look at her, and Brittany bites her lip nervously. She wants to console her. She wants to support her. She wants to reassure her, but as she gazes upon the hardened exterior of a broken girl, she realizes that she no longer knows how to crack the shell.

The guilt descends upon her in waves as her frantic mind searches for the answers that she's _supposed_ to have. She's Brittany, and she's just supposed to know and her shoulders slump in shame as she struggles with the notion that she's lost the part of herself that does.

Brittany thinks that she's been clinging to the simple, to the _easy_, for so long that she's forgotten how to get what she's been fighting for.

"_Santana…I'm so proud of you,"_ she whispers, and there's a flinch. A fleeting glance. A crack.

_She _says nothing, and Brittany's shoulders slump lower as she sighs.

They sit in the choir room, in a deafening silence, until it _she_ finally breaks.

It takes a moment before Brittany realizes what's happening. She sees the movement out of the corner of her eye and as she turns, her heart swells as the tears well up in her eyes.

There it is; the offer. The _everything_, and Brittany feels more complete than she has in long time as she reaches over, joins their pinkies, and accepts her destiny.


End file.
